ervice. She seemed, in fact, almost sorry when the patient had no
further need of her especial attendance.

To Miss Ludington the revelation that she was so dear to Ida was
profoundly affecting. It was natural that she should adore Ida, but that
Ida should be correspondingly devoted to her touched her in proportion to
its unexpectedness. "I should be glad to be sick always, with you to
nurse me, my sister," she said. Whenever she addressed Ida by this title
of sister her voice lingered upon the syllables as if she were striving
to realize all the mysterious closeness and tenderness of the relation
between them which its use implied.

The period of convalescence, during which Miss Ludington sat in her room,
lasted several days, and one evening she sent for Paul. She was alone
when he came in, and after he had inquired after her condition, she
motioned him to a chair.

"Sit down, Paul," she said; "I want to have a little talk with you."

He sat down and she went on: "I find that I have been greatly enfeebled
by this attack, and though the doctor tells me I may regain reasonable
health, he warns me that I shall not live for ever, and that when I die I
may die without much warning."

Expressions of mingled grief, surprise, and incredulity from Paul
interrupted her at this point, but she presently went on:--

"It is really nothing to distress yourself over, my dear child. He does
not say that I may not live on indefinitely, but only that when death
comes he is likely to enter without knocking, and I'm sure any sensible
person would much rather have it so. It was of Ida that I wanted to speak
to you. Since I have been sick, and especially since what the doctor told
me, I have been thinking what would become of her if I should die. Did
you ever consider, Paul, that she has not even a name? The world does not
recognize the way by which she came back into it, and in the eye of the
law she has no right to the name of Ida Ludington, or to any other."

"I suppose not," said Paul.

"It does not matter while I live," pursued Miss Ludington; "but what if I
should die?"

"Let us not talk of that," replied Paul, "or think of it. Yet even in
that event I should be here to protect her."

Miss Ludington regarded the young man for some moments without speaking,
and then, as a slight colour tinged her cheek she said, "Paul, do you
love her?"

"Do you need to ask me that?" he answered.

"No, I do not," she replied; and then as s